


Save them from the abyss they fell in

by hybristophilica



Category: Original Work
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Boyfriends, Breakup, Child Abuse, Depression, Drug Use, Gay Character, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Light Angst, Major Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Multi, OC, OCs - Freeform, Original Character(s), Parental Abuse, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Sadness, Scars, Suicide Attempt, relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-03-27 23:26:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13891368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hybristophilica/pseuds/hybristophilica
Summary: This is just a bunch of short stories about my own character's lives, what they do, what they think, who they love.Each chapter will be complete on its own, so no need to read them in order. Just enjoy <3





	1. Breakup

**Author's Note:**

> Mike and Hichiro.

It had been hard, leaving him. They had talked about it, and Hichiro had been so understanding, and loving, and Mike didn’t know what he had ever done to deserve it. 

You couldn’t call theirs a great love. Not because they didn’t love or care about each other, but because it was a simple sentiment, nothing more than that. Something pure, completely generous, but not as deep as a great love would be. Maybe that was why they had decided to break up when Mike announced his family was moving away, and he was following them. The idea of a distance relationship had popped up in their minds, and they had spoken about it without fear nor pettiness.  
Hichiro had been the one that was firmer about the matter. He was rather objective about it, and he had repeated more than once that he didn’t regret anything they had done in the brief month they had been together. It was maybe because they had been a couple for such a short time that their separation wouldn’t be as painful as it was supposed to, eventually.  
Mike was grateful for that time in which this boy had made him feel so important, and wanted, and that was why he was the most reluctant between them, the one that had thought more about keeping it on even if distant. Hichiro had appreciated the idea and the effort, and he had spoken so softly to him, caressing his cheekbone below his nerdy glasses, speaking words of confort, reassuring him. Hichiro was aware of the limits he had forced Mike into with his sexuality, and even if he knew how much Mike was willing to do for him, he was also aware that his boyfriend was holding back. Really, he knew Mike would be fine also without him, but the older male was still thoughtful and indecise about it. After a long afternoon of talking, thinking together, crying together holding onto each other, Mike had left Hichiro’s house with a sad smile. 

 

They had no regrets. They knew they would be happy soon, and this pain would disappear, sooner or later. It was more bearable than the one distance would bring to them. They had decided that they would keep in touch, call, Skype, because the friendship between them wasn’t a thing they could cancel, and they were glad it wasn’t. 

Despite the breakup, Mike often found himself thinking about Hichiro, only good memories with him, a hint of sadness, and the consciousness that they had made the right choise. 


	2. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiro's past abuse.

He noticed that there was something wrong when he and his brother were in trouble, but he had been the only one punished and accused of doing something he shouldn't have done. They were playing with a tennis ball inside of the house when it accidentally hit a vase, and broke it.   
It wasn't the first time he was being beaten up, but it was the first time Hiro noticed he was the only one between them. Even when the fault wasn't his. 

Every time his mother’s hands laid flat against his cheeks he had to hold back his whimpers, or he knew she would give him much worse things to cry about. The burning feeling of warm hands against his cheek made his eyes tear up, and he let his head fall to the side when the force of the slap made him turn his face. Since he could remember these things had happened, and even though he knew it was all wrong, there was nothing he could do. The best thing he could try was to be a better son.   
His parents had always been like this, they were cold to him, completely careless, and every time Hiro, still a child, complained about the slaps being too hard, or cried because he was still hungry, or whined because the spanks he received didn't let him sit too comfortably, they just looked at him through glares and slow shakes of their heads. Disappointment. Shame. Disgust. How many things did Hiro learned to distinguish in those icy eyes. He had stopped looking for affection when he was 11, and he didn't learned yet how to deal with this need of care and love. His brother’s words often were of comfort to him, but their bond wasn't as strong as Hiro had thought it was, or he had hoped. The distance between them grew, and Hiro started seeing him just like another figure more similar to his parents, than a brother.   
These behaviors caused him to develop a serious anxiety and several behaviors he’d rather forget about, and only when he managed to get out of there he started going to a therapist for some months. It helped a little at first, but Hiro couldn't stand with another person telling him what to do or how to do it, he preferred to deal with his own problems alone like he always had.  
He now had his own house, his safe place, but it didn't mean that he could forget his past, and how could he? His whole body brought the memory of the abuse he had been though for years. Every time he took a shower and looked at his body the scars and the marks he saw there made him remember details he didn't want to relive again.

His brother had never hit him. Hiro didn't know why. Maybe he felt pity for him, but he had never tried to lay a finger on him. Not that the silver haired boy would be able to defend himself. His brother barely spoke to him anyway, and he only threw him occasional glances of warning or disappointment.

Instead, his father thought that a physical punishment was what was needed to a kid to be well educated. On his hips Hiro could still see light and thin marks the man had made years ago, and it was almost funny that he had preferred using objects to hit his child with rather than his bare hands. Hiro had been spanked and beaten up with spatulas, slippers, ladles, and many of the hits he received had left little deep cuts over his frail hips, his father’s favorite place to attack. 

 

Whenever he touched his right arm, instead, and his fingers touched the three burn scars there, he couldn't help but flash on the back of his eyelids the figure of his mother with the large fork in her hand. That day she had been cooking when Hiro had walked to her in the kitchen, approaching closer as the woman was moving the fork in the tall pan full of boiling water. Hiro was 10 then. He asked her if she could come play with him for a while, since his brother was still at school and his father at work. She had drily told him to go away to play alone, but Hiro had grabbed the edge of her apron, pulling it a little, holding onto it until it ripped apart. The damage was little, it could be easily adjusted with a needle, but Hiro flinched away in the same moment his mother hands grabbed him. “Look what you’ve done!” Even if at distance of years he could still hear that voice, and feel the same fear in the stomach. The thin fingers of his mother held his wrist, while the other hand, still holding the hot fork, came closer until the metal burnt into Hiro’s skin, making him cry out loud. “This is what bad kids deserve!” She yelled as he pushed him away, making him stumble on the floor.  
After that, Hiro had run to the bathroom and had tried to stop the pain with cold water, wrapping the damaged skin in toilet paper, and since that day he had never asked anyone to play with him again.


	3. Fail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: suicide attempt

The first thing he remembered when he woke up was that he had wished to die.   
Why was he still breathing? He blinked his eyes, slowly, to get used to the light.   
A clear plastic mask was pressed against his nose and mouth, linked to a strange blue tube that provided him air.   
He took a breath, and then another.   
He was in a white room, one big window at his left, and an empty chair on his right, close to the nightstand of his bed. A hospital room.   
Two days ago, Bill was struggling with his depression. Despite what many could think, it wasn’t his parents’ fault. They were busy with work all day all week, and the young man couldn’t blame them for being so absent. But when his loneliness kicked in, he was alone fighting it, at least most times. They were aware of their son’s mental illness, they had brought him to several doctors, but it had been hard for them to convince Bill to take pills and medicines. He had stopped taking then when their effect had faded completely, leaving him without options.   
He didn’t have many friends, and sure not any close enough for that kind of situations.  
Everything had started two years ago. The drugs and the joints had been a consequence of it, just the simplest way to vent somehow, to take his mind off from the dark thoughts that daily filled it. His depression was his closest companion. It wrapped around his mind with its black fingers, and like a spider it crawled silently until the net was sealed around his head, and there was no way to escape. Everything was black those days, heavy like a grey sky in a traffic day, and it was better to sleep them off. Until one day he decided to sleep too much. He didn’t even remember what he had put in that syringe, but he had mixed several drugs, and pushed with his thumb, watching how the needle inserted in his arm filled him with what he hoped was a goodbye pass.

Thinking about that now, he shouldn’t have done it in his room, where his parents could find him, and actually did. He could just imagine his mother’s face.   
Bill felt his eyes wet with the desperation of having failed even his attempt of dying, and the necessity of bearing the consequences now, the depression, the disappointment of his parents, the drug addiction he wanted to stop.   
He had tried to kill himself because he was unable to even bear the thought of all of those things.


End file.
